“One of the kindest most understanding men I’ve ever known!” Laura mimicked the words, in a childlike voice, and then gave a harsh laugh. “You’re priceless, Arabella, you really are. Do you expect me to believe that? I know why you’ve been playing up to him over the years. And more besides, for all I know. Well, you’ve got what you wanted now, haven’t you?” Bella wanted to slap her hard and moved towards her with every intention of doing so.
“Go on then!” her sister goaded her. “That’d really look good in the headlines, wouldn’t it. Well known author Arabella Foxton sued for assault by her own sister. Should do wonders for your sales.” Bella had had enough.
“Get out, Laura. If you don’t leave immediately I’ll call the porter and have you thrown out!” Laura stood up slowly, a supercilious grin on her face.
“Really, sister dear, you ought to do something about that temper of yours. Old Rupe wouldn’t be too impressed if he could see you now.” She made her way to the door and Bella followed, at her shoulder. At the door Laura turned to her sister and smiled sweetly.
“The reason I called was just to let you know that I shall look forward to visiting you now you have a place in the country. Maggie and I would really love to borrow it one weekend.” Bella’s spirits hit the floor as Laura let herself out, closing the door behind her. She was literally shaking with rage, incensed by what had just taken place and really regretting the fact that she hadn’t slapped her sister. Whatever the consequences might have been, she thought, it would have made me feel a hell of a lot better. In an effort to calm herself, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘So much for having a nice relaxing bath” she muttered, indignantly, resisting an overwhelming urge to scream.
Come Sunday morning the trauma of Laura’s visit had faded, helped in no small way by the anticipation with which Bella was looking forward to the day ahead. Sunday was usually reserved for indulging herself. A lie-in then a pub lunch with friends being the highlights of the day. This day, she had risen at 6am, showered, then taken a great deal of care in selecting her outfit, a reflection of what she thought of Ben Hollingsworth. Bella was a natural clothes-horse, seemingly able to add style to a pair of faded jeans or an old shirt. She instinctively knew what suited her personality and dressed with a casual elegance, the envy of many of her women friends. Needless to say, Laura had always despised her for being able to look so good and having the colouring to wear just about anything. After having had a light breakfast, as instructed, and inspecting her make-up one last time she had left home at 7.40am for the short journey to The Strand. Ben Hollingsworth arrived at five minutes before eight, which pleased Bella immensely as she became seriously annoyed when people were late for appointments. If Ben had have turned up at five past or, God forbid, twenty past eight he would have gone way down in Bella’s estimation, unless he had phoned to let her know. What she didn’t know was the drama he had gone through to even get there and how close he had come to not turning up at all. As he walked up to her, he was beaming broadly, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Dressed in green cords and dark brown loafers with a lemon-coloured lambswool sweater over a light checked shirt he looked relaxed and happy, even though he might not have felt it.
“You look stunning,” he announced. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to today. This your car?” he asked, indicating the Alfa parked at the kerb.
“Certainly is. How do I get to the car park?” He took her arm, motioning her towards the car as the tantalising fragrance of her perfume wafted over him.
“I’ll jump in and show you where to go. Just take the first on the left.” They got in the car and Ben directed her to the car park. Once there they parked the Alfa and transferred to his silver BMW. Before long, they were heading north, out of London.
“Excuse me, for sounding a little confused,” Bella ventured. “But when I last looked at a map, Dorset was to the south-west. Do you know something that I don’t?” He turned to her and grinned.
“Just have patience and you’ll see.” Whatever his game was, she thought, he’s obviously enjoying himself.
“Does this have anything to do with your telling me to have a light breakfast, maybe?” At that moment he indicated to turn off to the left as the sign for Stansted Airport loomed up in front of them.
Even with the headphones on, the noise of the Bell Jet Ranger’s powerful engine turning over was incredible, especially for someone who hadn’t flown in a helicopter before, which Ben ascertained from the look on Bella’s face as he waited for the revs to pick up.
“Your first time in a helicopter?” She nodded in response. “You’ll get used to it,” he told her, soothingly. “It’ll settle down once we get up there,” he said, looking up and pointing skywards as the noise increased. His voice was very clear and confident through the headset and she couldn’t help but be impressed by the turn of events and his calm control in the pilot’s seat. What other surprises were in store today she wondered. What else was she going to discover about Ben Hollingsworth? As the thoughts ran through her mind, they were off the ground before she realised it and then Ben took them up and around to set a course that would take them to the south west, avoiding the heavy air traffic around Heathrow. She watched, fascinated, as the panorama continued to unfold beneath them, seeing for the first time areas she was so familiar with on the ground, from this new and breathtaking perspective. It was a cloudless, sunny day and he maintained the minimum height, identifying landmarks for her in case she hadn’t spotted them.
“Ben, this is simply amazing!” she yelled into the microphone, like an excited ten year old, using his christian name like they were old friends, something he noted with satisfaction. “Where are we heading?”
“We’re just north of Welwyn Garden City now. That’s it over there, to your left, with St. Albans just beyond that. I’ll take us over Oxford, because that’s fascinating from the air, then on to Swindon and we’ll head due south from there, passing over Salisbury, to Bournemouth Airport.”
“Ben, that sounds marvellous. I can’t believe I’m doing this, it’s fantastic! What speed are we travelling at?”
“Between one hundred and twenty and one hundred and thirty knots, with a bit of a tail wind. We should be there in under an hour.” Her laughter rang in his ears and he turned to glance at her, quickly. “What’s up?”
“In the excitement of all this,” she began, looking around her, “I’d completely forgotten about the cottage!”
They flew on to Oxford and Bella marvelled at the view of the ancient seat of learning, from the air, as Ben identified individual buildings by their spires.
“You weren’t a student here, by any chance, were you?” It seemed a natural question, given his apparent intimate knowledge of the city.
“Student and part-time tour guide, at your service, ma'am!” he chuckled. “Some of the best years of my life.” All too soon, the city lay behind them and Swindon was visible, on the horizon.
“How often do you do this sort of thing,” Bella couldn’t help but ask, wondering if this was normal practice for him or just put on for her benefit.
“Every now and then, when it’s convenient,” he answered with a smile in his voice.
“And what exactly does that mean? City girls like me don’t impress too easily you know, if that’s why you’ve gone to all this trouble!” He was enjoying her teasing, happy to play along with the game.
“It means that it seemed the obvious way to let you see the cottage with the minimum of fuss. If we’d have come down by car, then it might have meant staying over and coming back tomorrow, possibly.” The ball was back in her court, the unspoken inference obvious nonetheless.
“We’re grown up children, Ben, don’t you think? I’m sure we could have handled that.” He glanced across at her, trying to read something in her face, not sure which way to interpret her answer. The one thing he knew for sure was that she was having the most disturbing effect on him.
&n
bsp; “You’re married, I take it” she said, off-handedly, looking ahead at the unmistakeable spire of Salisbury cathedral. The usual prevarication sprung to the tip of his tongue but he found, inexplicably, that he didn’t want to lie to her.
“Yes. For the best part of twenty years now. Two teenage girls, a farmhouse in Essex and a large mortgage. I’ve known Tina, my wife, since we were at school together. There, how’s that? Anything else you want to know?” Yes there was, she thought, she wanted to know everything about him. There was a strange intimacy about the cockpit of the helicopter. Just the two of them cocooned in their own time capsule.
“Ever slept with another woman?” Bella ran her tongue slowly along her bottom lip as she waited for his answer. He turned his head sideways, one eyebrow raised.
“Ever thought of becoming a crown prosecutor?” he retorted, a gleam in his eye. “The judge rules that question out of order,” Ben said, firmly.
“Aha!” Bella exclaimed. “The witness refuses to answer the question on the grounds he might incriminate himself, eh?” She was enjoying the sparring and having more fun than she’d had in a long time. Lingering Doubts had taken a lot out of her and, since its publication, life had become more like a whistle-stop tour.
“What made you take up law?” she asked him, as the glimmering, silvery outline of the sea appeared on their horizon.
“Usual reasons,” he answered, blithely, one eye on the altimeter. “Father had his own practice then became a district court judge. I thought about other careers but nothing took my fancy. Anyway, that’s enough about me,” he said, as he began their descent into Bournemouth. “I’d like to know more about my charming passenger.”
They didn’t take up the conversation again until they were on the road out of the airport in the hired Audi heading north-west in the direction of Blandford Forum. Once they had landed, close to the main airport building, it hadn’t taken them long to pick up the car and get on the road. When Bella checked her slim Cartier watch she found that it wasn’t yet 10.30.
“I don’t like to say this, Ben, but I’m feeling a little hungry having followed your instructions about a light breakfast!”
“Sorry about that!” he apologised, with a laugh. “Some people can suffer pretty badly with air-sickness in the chopper so I thought it best to be wise before the event.”
“Well, thanks for being so thoughtful but I wouldn’t mind stopping for a coffee and something to eat, along the way.”
“Sure thing. I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“I’d rather you did!” she emphasised, and they both laughed. There was something she had been meaning to ask him and now was as good a time as any. “So, is the chopper yours?” she enquired.
“It belongs to clients of mine. They have a charter business that leases and hires various types of choppers. I’ve got a Robinson 22 which is a tad smaller than this but very handy for avoiding traffic jams. I have an arrangement with the company that I can borrow a chopper when I need one and the Jet Ranger was available today. Simple as that. So,” he said, stretching back from the wheel, “did you enjoy the flight?”
“You know I did!” she purred. “It was just so…exhilarating. As I said to you, I was so engrossed in the flight I forgot about the cottage completely,” she reminded him, with a grin. “But now we’re that much closer I’m really getting excited about it!” Her excitement was infectious and Ben seized the moment, wanting to know more about her.
“Tell me about Bella Foxton, then,” he said. “There’s something very un-Anglo Saxon about you, something intriguing. I want to know all your secrets!”
“Hmm! Do you now?” she replied, giving him an old-fashioned look. “I’m not sure I know you well enough for that but I’ll give you some of me and see how you get on.” They had reached the junction with the A31 and Ben turned right, in the direction of Wimborne. Not a fan of Google Maps, Bella had the folding map which she had found on the passenger seat, when she had got into the car, on her lap and was smiling at some of the place names. Gussage, Chettle, Pimperne, Tidpit. It was like finding yourself entering the Middle Kingdom and at any moment she expected to see Frodo thumbing a lift by the side of the road.
“I’d always wanted to be a dancer,” she confessed. “Right from the time I was a little girl.” Ben said nothing, content to listen. “I was always dancing to music, at home, even when I was three or four years old. My mother enrolled me in dancing classes but then we went back to Italy to live and well, that was the end of that.” Ben shot her a glance, seeking an explanation.
“Maria, my mother, is Italian. My father met her on his travels and they came back to England. She was several years older than him, a serious actress who could also paint a bit. I’ve no idea what she saw in my father that made her want to marry him…”
“What makes you say that?” Ben sounded surprised.
“Dad was the black sheep in the Foxton flock. Much more Irish than Rupert, and proud of it. Rupert inherited the title, of course but dad acted more like it was his, apparently. You’re probably aware” she said, turning to look at him, “that he died when I was quite young?” Ben nodded. “So I only know of him by reputation, you understand.”
“And what reputation was that, dare I ask?”
“Typically, Irish, I suppose you’d say, not wishing to stereotype him. Rupert told me that he was a great storyteller.” Bella leaned towards him a little and whispered. “And you can take that any way you want!” Settling back, she continued. “He enjoyed a good drink and loved the company of women. Oh yes, and according to Rupert, he did nothing in moderation. How my mother ever put up with him, I’ll never know.”
“Does she talk about him much?” Ben asked.
“Never has done. It was like the moment he died she erased every memory of him. I’ve tried to get her to open up but it’s like he never existed.”
“How strange!” Ben murmured.
“Every family’s got it’s secrets, Ben, and I guess we’re no different.” She glanced out the window, as they passed a large road sign. “Look,” she cried, “we’re just coming into Blandford Forum. If you want to know any more about me, I demand that you stop at the first half-decent looking place before I faint from hunger!”
Ben spotted a pub sign, up ahead, on their side of the road and slowed down as he approached. The King’s Arms had an open sign outside so he turned into the car park, much to Bella’s relief. It was an old pub which had been modernised, in an attempt to boost trade, and had once belonged to the Badger Brewery stable but was now part of a Japanese-controlled conglomerate. There were only three other customers in the bar as Ben ordered drinks and two rounds of salmon sandwiches, which put him back in Bella’s good books.
“So tell me, where’s your mother now?” Ben asked as they sat down at a table by the window facing the road. “Is she still in Italy, or did she return to live here?” Bella made herself comfortable, flicking her hair back, and Ben couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked.
“No, she’s still in Italy. A place called Lucca, in Tuscany, do you know it?” Ben shook his head. “It’s famous as Puccini’s birthplace. She’s quite well-known as an artist now and I think she just loves the light and the textures in the countryside around her and, to be honest, I would imagine that England holds the wrong sort of memories for her.” Thinking of her mother, Bella realised, somewhat guiltily, it had been over a year since she had last seen her. Ben was quite happy enjoying the moment, pleased to be in her company and not feeling the immediate need for conversation. It was Bella who eventually broke the silence.
“My brother, Liam, left to go to America then Laura came back here…”
“She was the one with the gingery, red hair, the other day?”
“You noticed, did you?” Bella said, with a smile. Ben chose to err on the side of decency and refrained from commenting. “Yes, that was her. There were the three of us kids. I came back when I was eighteen, did a bit of modelling and promotion work t
hen got into public relations through a contact of Rupert’s.”
“He certainly has looked after you then.”
“Uncle Foxy was the Dad I never had…”
“I beg your pardon?” Ben interrupted. “Did you say Uncle Foxy?”
“I always called him that,” she replied, defensively. “Ever since I was a kid.” She affected a look of being really hurt. “Didn’t you ever have a pet name for a relative?”
“I can think of one or two,” Ben answered grimly. “But I couldn’t repeat them to you. I don’t know you well enough!”
Bella entertained Ben with a condensed version of the early part of her life, as they waited for their sandwiches to arrive. They were both very much at ease in each other’s company and not in a rush to leave the pub. She explained to him the rift between Laura and herself but didn’t mention her sister’s recent visit and then recounted the tale of her short marriage and how she had taken up writing shortly afterwards. Finally, she told him how Liam had died, from Aids, only last year, after he had been living in New York and working as an account executive for an advertising agency. Bella had managed to get across to see him before he died, just one month short of his fortieth birthday. The barman brought their sandwiches over and Ben followed him back to the bar, to get another round of drinks. It occurred to Bella, that it had been a very long time since she had talked about herself like this, to anyone, and Ben was a certainly a good listener. She pondered over the fact that he was married and was surprised to find that it bothered her. It wasn’t as though having an affair with a married man would be a new experience for her. She could remember vividly the husband of one of her mother’s friends, in Lucca, making love to her when she was still a teenager for what girl ever forgets losing her virginity? And she had had affairs with married men since, not that she made a habit of it, but couldn’t recall any great degree of soul-searching. So why did the prospect of an affair with Ben, if there was going to be one, bother her so? Was it that he was indirectly associated with the family? Or maybe it was because she was suddenly in the public eye. Before she could explore any further possibilities he was on his way back with the drinks and she used her imagination to shut out the niggling worry.
The Knapthorne Conspiracy Page 4
